pad that displayed an astromap of this galactic sector. Tapping a button on the pad, Bhaleen called up a holo image of the sector, showing planets, suns, an asteroid belt, and a stunning, butterfly-shaped nebula in the distance that glinted with golden light.
“It’s incredibly beautiful in this region,” the Kajor said, “but that doesn’t help us figure out where we are. My officers are running and rerunning programs now, searching for answers. The prisoners may have thrown us off intentionally, providing false information.”
“You think they’re fanatics?”
“Maybe. Hard to tell.”
“Give me your best guess,” Hari said. “How much longer do you think this will take?” Hari asked.
“To figure out where we are, or to get to the starcloud?”
“Both.”
“Hard to judge, because even if—I mean, when —we figure out our location, we are still having problems with the nav-units. Even so, my officers are confident that we can compensate for the errors. They’re taking astronomical readings, and the ships’ computers should be able to figure out what we did, and how to correct it.”
“But the computers allowed us to go off course?”
“They did, but there have been problems with the podways on which these ships travel, with entire galactic sectors damaged so badly that we couldn’t travel through them, requiring that we go around.”
“And now?”
“With all the course mistakes and corrections we’ve made, we’re way off course. But don’t worry. My navigation officers will come up with new settings.”
“At least that’s what they’re telling you.”
“True enough, My Emir.” The Kajor smiled cautiously. “But you’ve always liked my optimism in the past.”
With a broad grin, Hari patted him on the back.
Just then, Bhaleen took a comlink call from the other ship. Under intense interrogation, the captured Hibbil and Adurian soldiers were offering no assistance whatsoever. The Kajor went on to discuss a mechanical question with someone on the other end of the line. Bhaleen was the most loyal of all military officers Hari had ever known, and could always be relied upon to perform his work well.
That took some of the load off the young leader’s shoulders. But it had not been an easy journey for Hari to arrive at this point. In sharp contrast to the radical, demented militarism of his own father, he had always considered himself something of a moderate—a person who was willing to talk to the enemies of the kingdom and negotiate with them for the mutual benefit of two very different galactic races. And, just as he loved Parais d’Olor, he was certain that all of humankind was filled with relationships such as the one he knew with her, of people who didn’t care about ancient enmities and just wanted the fighting to stop.
Normally, Hari was not an appeaser; while he was willing to negotiate, he also believed in negotiating from strength. In the present circumstances, however, that tactic was no longer possible. With the total destruction of the beloved Mutati homeworld of Paradij (an event that would always weigh heavily on his conscience), the shapeshifters had sustained a grievous setback. His people were still in possession of considerable military strength in other Mutati star systems, but the command center and the most powerful forces had been lost with Paradij. The brightest of the brightest had been wiped out, along with the greatest of all military minds and a great deal more.
He tried not to dwell on the troubling details, but they kept surfacing to torment him, almost beyond the limit of his endurance. His heart sank at the thought of the great libraries that had been destroyed on the beautiful world, with all of the priceless ancient documents. All of the historical and cultural treasures. And most of all, the lives that had been taken, especially the young ones. Their imagined faces spun through his thoughts, and he fought off tears.
Suddenly, Parais d’Olor
“It’s incredibly beautiful in this region,” the Kajor said, “but that doesn’t help us figure out where we are. My officers are running and rerunning programs now, searching for answers. The prisoners may have thrown us off intentionally, providing false information.”
“You think they’re fanatics?”
“Maybe. Hard to tell.”
“Give me your best guess,” Hari said. “How much longer do you think this will take?” Hari asked.
“To figure out where we are, or to get to the starcloud?”
“Both.”
“Hard to judge, because even if—I mean, when —we figure out our location, we are still having problems with the nav-units. Even so, my officers are confident that we can compensate for the errors. They’re taking astronomical readings, and the ships’ computers should be able to figure out what we did, and how to correct it.”
“But the computers allowed us to go off course?”
“They did, but there have been problems with the podways on which these ships travel, with entire galactic sectors damaged so badly that we couldn’t travel through them, requiring that we go around.”
“And now?”
“With all the course mistakes and corrections we’ve made, we’re way off course. But don’t worry. My navigation officers will come up with new settings.”
“At least that’s what they’re telling you.”
“True enough, My Emir.” The Kajor smiled cautiously. “But you’ve always liked my optimism in the past.”
With a broad grin, Hari patted him on the back.
Just then, Bhaleen took a comlink call from the other ship. Under intense interrogation, the captured Hibbil and Adurian soldiers were offering no assistance whatsoever. The Kajor went on to discuss a mechanical question with someone on the other end of the line. Bhaleen was the most loyal of all military officers Hari had ever known, and could always be relied upon to perform his work well.
That took some of the load off the young leader’s shoulders. But it had not been an easy journey for Hari to arrive at this point. In sharp contrast to the radical, demented militarism of his own father, he had always considered himself something of a moderate—a person who was willing to talk to the enemies of the kingdom and negotiate with them for the mutual benefit of two very different galactic races. And, just as he loved Parais d’Olor, he was certain that all of humankind was filled with relationships such as the one he knew with her, of people who didn’t care about ancient enmities and just wanted the fighting to stop.
Normally, Hari was not an appeaser; while he was willing to negotiate, he also believed in negotiating from strength. In the present circumstances, however, that tactic was no longer possible. With the total destruction of the beloved Mutati homeworld of Paradij (an event that would always weigh heavily on his conscience), the shapeshifters had sustained a grievous setback. His people were still in possession of considerable military strength in other Mutati star systems, but the command center and the most powerful forces had been lost with Paradij. The brightest of the brightest had been wiped out, along with the greatest of all military minds and a great deal more.
He tried not to dwell on the troubling details, but they kept surfacing to torment him, almost beyond the limit of his endurance. His heart sank at the thought of the great libraries that had been destroyed on the beautiful world, with all of the priceless ancient documents. All of the historical and cultural treasures. And most of all, the lives that had been taken, especially the young ones. Their imagined faces spun through his thoughts, and he fought off tears.
Suddenly, Parais d’Olor
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